


Broken Open

by cherry_cdc



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Butt Plugs, Don't Like Don't Read, Dubious Consent Later On, Explicit Sexual Content, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Mpreg, Non-Consensual, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pureblood Society, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-04-18 01:03:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4686389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherry_cdc/pseuds/cherry_cdc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Voldemort has won. There was never a prophecy, and Harry Potter never defeated the Dark Lord. The Wizarding population has been decimated, and in a bid to make it flourish, muggleborns and people who were on the wrong side of the war have been enslaved, some as servants, others as breeders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. I can't believe this is what I wrote for my first post ever.

Chapter One

 

 _1985_

After a war that dragged on for years, Dark Lord won. As the Light side dwindled with the constant killings and defections, Albus Dumbledore had placed his hopes in the Order of the Phoenix, only to be killed by the wand of Lord Voldemort in the Death Eaters’ invasion of Hogwarts. The Order of the Phoenix, the supposed core of the Light side, crumbled into nothing following Dumbledore’s death. Lord Voldemort took Hogwarts, then the Ministry, which had been corrupted and useless during the war in any case. The Dark won the war. There was no more resistance. 

Following the end of the war, several pressing matters were tended to. The inadequate Wizarding population had been decimated in the war. The Dark Lord had been contemplating a suitable solution when Bellatrix Lestrange had suggested a rather excellent way to increase the population without diluting the magic in their blood, while also taking care of the ever-present mudblood problem. Mudbloods and people who were on the side of the Light were enslaved, some as breeders, others as servants to serve their superiors. Breeders were tested for sufficient inherent magic before being designated to prevent the dilution of magic. Having been magically altered, breeders could be both female or male, and were obligated to bear children for their pureblood masters and the well-being of the Wizarding population. 

Only purebloods and halfbloods were allowed to attend Hogwarts. Only purebloods were allowed to own slaves. Slaves had no rights or power whatsoever over their superiors. 

Some people were outraged. They didn’t speak up. The Dark Lord did not care about cowards.

And now that his priorities were completed, the Dark Lord leaned back leisurely on his throne in the former Riddle Manor. Despite the distasteful origins of the Riddle name, the place would always be dear to him as the place of Tom Riddle Sr.’s death. Restored to its full glory and equipped with impenetrable wards, the newly named Slytherin Manor was fit to be the residence of Lord Voldemort, the rightful ruler of Wizarding Britain. 

 

***

_Twelve Years Later_

“Congratulations on turning seventeen, Draco.”

“Happy seventeenth birthday, Draco!” 

“Draco, congratulations - ”

Draco Malfoy was home for his birthday celebration. Draco Malfoy was also utterly, infuriatingly bored, but made sure his polite smile and elegant poise did not falter. He was at his seventeenth birthday celebration, a lavish affair held in the grand ballroom of Malfoy Manor for which hundreds of the most elite and pureblooded had come, and he did not want to let it show that he would rather be playing Quidditch outside. A small mountain of gifts lay in the centre of the room, and along a wall was a raised dais with an ornate throne on it. Draco hoped that the Dark Lord would humour Father’s invitation to the event and make an appearance - it would be a great honour to the Malfoys. 

“Draco,” Father said, having finished talking to and thanking all the guests. He could see his mother talking with the Parkinsons. Lucius Malfoy looked the image of sophistication, with his long blond hair tied back with a green ribbon and flowing robes that were obviously of the highest quality. 

“There is much to celebrate. The Dark Lord is to be here very soon.”

“The Dark Lord will come?” Draco gulped in both fear and excitement. 

“Yes, and I believe he will… formally induct you into our ranks.”

“To become a Death Eater? Merlin, Father, will I get the Mark? _Father_ \- ”

“Draco, _behave yourself_ and remember that you are a _Malfoy!_ ”, Lucius hissed in annoyance.

“Yes, Father,” Draco replied petulantly. 

Merely moments had passed when a sudden silence hushed the room as a figure entered the room. The Dark Lord. Lord Voldemort was a tall, dark-haired, handsome man whose charisma and intelligence had lead him and his followers to victory. He was a man who was more than worthy, Draco thought, of his worship. Everyone kneeled before the Dark Lord as he walked up to the dais and sat upon the luxurious throne, in his place above everyone else. Draco and Lucius had also sunk onto their knees. 

“Lucius, you may rise,” the Dark Lord commanded. 

“Thank you, my Lord.” Lucius slowly stood up, keeping his head bowed in deference to his lord. 

“Lucius, you are one of my most trusted, praiseworthy Death Eaters.”

“Thank you, my Lord.”

“But as for your son… Do you think that Draco is ready to follow in your footsteps?” The Dark Lord leaned back into his throne, tapping his wand. It was a small action, yet Draco felt his Lord’s power permeating the room. 

“My Lord, Draco is still young, thus he may be careless and make mistakes, but I assure you that his loyalty to you and our cause is _unwavering_.” 

Draco was furious at his father - he wasn’t _careless!_ Eager to redeem himself, he said, “My Lord, I would be greatly honoured to - ”

He fell silent when the Dark Lord motioned him over from his throne. Trying not to shake, Draco stood, walked to the dais and knelt by it. 

The Dark Lord smirked in amusement. “You need not tremble, Draco. I am pleased.

 

_Morsmordre!_ ”

 

Immediately, Draco screamed as agony burned through his left forearm. His arm was being seared through, bubbles of burning heat forcing themselves through the skin of his arm - then nothing. The pain was gone as suddenly as it had come. Draco looked at his arm. The Dark Mark stood out starkly on his skin. 

He recovered his senses. “Thank you, my Lord. I swear I will be your most devoted follower.” 

“As I expect of Lucius’ son,” the Dark Lord said. 

 

***

It was several hours until the party ended and the guests, including the Dark Lord, left. It was night, the glow of the sunset and evening sky having faded into darkness. The faint light coming through the great windows was all that lit the ballroom. 

Half-full glasses of champagne and leftover finger foods were cleared away. The dais and throne were dismantled and taken away, as were the tables and counters. The floor was swept and scrubbed, until it sparkled and the house elves could see their own reflections on it. 

Harry wasn’t able to see this, but he did know that he had been locked into his position for a very long time, and that he was about to go out of his mind. 

The mountain of birthday gifts for Draco Malfoy lay untouched in the middle of the room. 

 

***

The Malfoys were exhausted after the day and sat comfortably in armchairs in the parlour. Narcissa delicately sipped a cup of tea. 

“Now that you are a Death Eater, Draco,” Lucius said, “You must devote everything to the Dark Lord. There is to be no more silliness.” Draco listened with a half an ear; he had heard all this so many times before. He admired his forearm, where the Dark Mark proudly lay etched into his skin. 

Narcissa tutted. “Now, now, Lucius, it’s Draco’s birthday. Let him enjoy himself, dear.” She took another sip. 

“Speaking of enjoying himself…” Lucius smirked. “Draco. You should open your gifts. Let us go.” 

“Now?” Narcissa complained. “It’s been a long day, Lucius. Why not in the morning?”

“No, Mother. I’d rather just go now,” Draco said. He was curious as to why Lucius was so enthusiastic about Draco’s gifts, unlike how he had been the previous years.

They walked to the ballroom, Narcissa reluctantly deciding to go with Draco and Lucius. The room was dark and quiet, and in the silence a barely audible shuffling noise could be heard. 

“What’s that?” Narcissa asked suspiciously. She turned to her husband. “Lucius?” Lucius ignored her, instead looking at Draco approaching the small mountain of presents.

“ _Lumos._ ” The room lit up. 

Draco’s pile of presents was taller than him, stacked with hundreds of boxes and packages. Resigning himself to a long night of rummaging, Draco started to take the mountain apart, putting the packages aside for later and searching for the particular gift that his father was talking about. 

Contrary to his assumption, it really didn’t take long for him to find it. It was obviously the gift that his father was so excited about. 

In the center of the pile was a metal crate. He could make out a boy around his age curled up inside, naked with his wrists cuffed to his ankles. A pair of large green eyes peered through the slats of the crate, though the boy lowered them quickly before he could accidentally make eye contact. 

Lucius took advantage of Draco’s shock. “Draco, congratulations on your seventeenth birthday. To celebrate your new adulthood, I have bought for you a breeder.” 

“ _Lucius_ , I thought you had agreed not to bring any breeders into this house!” Narcissa accused. “I let you have your slaves already!”

“Narcissa dear, that is a breeder, which is... different,” Lucius said smoothly. “And it is for Draco. The other Death Eaters plan to get their children one, why shouldn’t Draco get one? For that matter, the best one?” Narcissa fell silent, though her glare didn’t abate. 

“Now, Draco, why don’t you get it out of its box?” Lucius suggested. 

“… Thank you, Father.” Draco’s face broke into a wide smile. 

Lucius smiled smugly at Narcissa. “Of no matter, Draco. I would have actually _much_ preferred to purchase a pureblood, a female one at that, but apparently this -” - he kicked the crate, causing a pained yelp - “- has the strongest magical core that Nott’s ever seen in the business. All future Malfoys must be powerful, whether or not they are eligible to be heir.” The boy curled further into himself, trembling. 

Lucius continued, “Of course, it’s a half-blood. I would never allow a _Mudblood_ to even _touch_ a Malfoy. And it helps that it looks quite adorable, doesn’t it?” 

Narcissa sniffed disapprovingly. 

“Father, thank you again,” Draco said as he looked hungrily at the crate. “I will indeed… _enjoy myself._ ”

Lucius laughed jovially. “Well then, go ahead and take him up to your room! Good night, Draco.”

“Good night, Father, Mother. _Wingardium Leviosa!_ ”

Draco levitated the crate and walked out of the room, leaving behind the pinched face of his mother and the rest of his birthday gifts.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not in any way whatsoever own Harry Potter or make profit from writing fanfiction. I forgot to do this in the first chapter, but hey!  
> I'm just mentioning this again. If stuff like this (look at tags) upsets/offends/etc you then please don't read it! ;)

Chapter Two 

 

When Draco entered his bedroom, he put the crate on the floor and cast _Alohomora_ on it. The door of the crate swung open and Draco couldn’t wait to get his hands on his new toy. 

“Come out!” He ordered eagerly. It was only when the boy in the crate struggled that Draco realised that the breeder was restrained. 

“ _Relashio!_ ” He severed the chains linking the cuffs together. “Now come out.” 

The boy crawled slowly out of the crate, his head bowed under Draco’s scrutiny. He was shaking but stayed silent, kneeling by his crate. The boy had messy black hair and pale skin, almost as pale as Draco was, though his face was flushed a lovely shade of pink. He was smaller and leaner than Draco, lithe, moving gracefully despite the tremors that ran through his body. And his beautiful green eyes. Draco admired the boy. 

“Come here, breeder,” Draco ordered. The boy crawled to kneel by his feet. 

“Your name.”

“Harry, master,” the boy mumbled. 

“You will not _mumble_ to me,” Draco snapped. The boy flinched.

“I’m sorry, master,” Harry whispered. Unfocused green eyes flicked up to him, then again on the floor. 

“Your full name?” 

“Harry Potter, master.” His voice was louder than before, though still barely above a whisper. Draco decided to let it go for now, because he had spotted the boy’s erect cock, which was restrained with a ring tightly squeezing the base of his shaft, leaving the boy with no hope of release. Draco’s manhood stirred.

“How old are you?” 

“Sixteen, master.” 

“Right. As you should know, I’m Draco Malfoy. I am your master from now and I expect you to serve me in whatever way I want.” Draco smirked in glee as he thought of the limitlessness of the word ‘whatever’. 

Harry stayed silent, his face stony. He was twitching constantly, covered in a sheen of sweat. His green eyes were glazed over - no doubt he had been given a lust potion and locked in his cage. Well, Draco could _certainly_ relieve _that_.

“Harry.” Draco tried saying the name out loud. It didn’t feel out of place on his tongue, so he decided the name could stay, unlike Harry’s chapped, raw lips, roughened from constantly being bitten. 

“So, Harry,” he drawled, “How have you fared in the Manor? After all, it is your new home from today.” 

Harry kept quiet, still shaking. Draco quashed his irritation.

“Harry, anything you’d like to say to your master?”

At that, Harry suddenly flung himself at Draco’s feet so quickly Draco jerked in surprise, clinging to his shoes and the legs of his trousers. He raised his head to look at him and Draco could see his eyes, his green, hazy, drugged eyes that were filled with crazed lust. 

Then he started begging. “Please, master, make it go away, _please please please_ , I’ll do anything, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me please!” A half-sob broke the continuity of his begging as tears slid down his cheeks.

Draco certainly was pleased by the convenient outcome of events. Harry looked _edible_ prostrating himself like that, cock swollen and begging. Draco’s arousal was accompanied by an uncomfortable tightening of his pants. 

“Well,” he drawled, trying his best to sound like he didn’t want it _that_ much. “I suppose you must be out of your mind.” He stalled, and Harry choked back another sob as he further lowered his head and started kissing his master’s shoes. Draco watched Harry’s hands clench and unclench, arms stiff and supporting his weight. He suddenly felt vexed as he watched the boy grovel. He moved away, stepping on one of Harry’s hands as he did so. There was a sharp _crack_. A fraction of a second later, Harry screamed in pain. 

Draco bent downwards, leaning near Harry’s face. 

“If you want to be fucked,” he hissed, “Get on the bed.” 

Harry scrambled up, wincing as he accidentally put weight onto his broken hand. Again with that strange grace he climbed onto the bed and knelt, waiting for Draco. Draco discarded his robes and stood by the foot of the bed. 

“Hands and knees, breeder.” 

Harry tried to balance on his hands, but with a groan of pain he slipped onto his elbows, broken hand dangling out of the way. He lowered his head and tried to calm his erratic breathing. Tear tracks still remained on his face. 

Draco looked at him. “I suppose that will do,” he said, staring at the boy’s body. He unzipped his trousers and unbuttoned his underwear to allow his cock to spring free, stiff and interested. He stroked his cock absentmindedly, watching Harry struggle to hold himself up on the bed. 

Harry was having a hard time, that much was obvious. His muscles were tense, his cock inflamed. Draco found himself staring at his slave’s wet asshole, slick and ready. He reached out and put a hand over the smooth ass cheeks, approving of Harry’s smooth hairless skin, which extended everywhere, right up to his puckered hole. 

Draco slid a finger inside. He thought it was a strange feeling, the walls clamping tighter around the digit than the girls Draco had been with had. Draco added another finger, and then another, prodding and swirling inside Harry, and the hole stretched to accommodate them easily, wet and slippery. The boy’s magical alterations were working to Draco’s satisfaction. 

“How slutty you are, Harry,” Draco whispered, “Your hole is so greedy for my fingers.” Harry moaned. 

“But I’m sure that fingers aren’t what you _really_ want,” Draco goaded. “Tell me what you want.” 

“Please master, I want your cock,” Harry gasped. 

Draco smirked. He pulled his fingers out of Harry’s asshole, and held them in front of his mouth. For the briefest of moments Harry seemed to be trying to lean away, but in the next he was licking Draco’s fingers clean. Draco took his hand back and positioned himself behind Harry. 

“Let’s see how fast we can get you pregnant,” he purred. 

He entered. In one long thrust he was buried inside Harry, reveling in the tight heat that engulfed him. He stayed still, struggling not to come right then and there as Harry whined in desperation. Draco pulled back and thrust ferociously. Despite his earlier efforts he could feel himself go over the brink and yelled as he came, releasing a load of semen into his breeder. It was over embarrassingly quickly, but he was a teenage boy and he hadn’t had sex for quite a while. And Harry certainly wasn’t going to be telling anyone. 

For that matter, Harry. He had forgotten completely about Harry in his pleasure. The green-eyed boy shook in his position, breathing harshly, his cock still restrained in the ring. Draco tucked his spent cock back in, then reached around to slip the ring off Harry’s penis. Harry toppled from his position and collapsed sideways onto the bed. Draco wiped his hands with his handkerchief. 

“Get into your crate and bring yourself off in there,” he said shortly. “I prefer you in my bed, but I would rather not considering your filthiness.” 

He watched Harry drag himself off the bed and crawl awkwardly to his crate, keeping his broken hand out of the way. Draco felt strangely annoyed as he looked at the scene. Inside the crate, Harry started stroking his penis feverishly with his unbroken hand, sobbing in relief when he found release in a matter of seconds. 

Draco took a vial out of his Potions cabinet and placed it inside the crate, in front of Harry, before locking the door. He reached his bed and made himself comfortable under the covers. 

“Drink that. _Nox_.” 

His bedroom was plunged into darkness. The faint light shining from the moon allowed him to just barely make out the shape of the crate. Draco waited for his slave to drink the Skele-gro. There was no sound of the vial being opened. 

“ _I told you to drink_ ,” he said, irked. And _now_ he could hear the sounds of the stopper popping out and the liquid being drunk. Harry finished drinking and with a clink, set the empty vial down. There was a rustling sound as he changed positions. 

Draco shut his eyes and tried to sleep, but found himself unable to. Harry’s rustling and occasional sighs reminded him again and again that a stranger was sleeping in his bedroom. It felt invasive. 

He startled when he heard a pitiful whimper from the crate. Quiet, wrenching sobs were suppressed doggedly. Draco lay there listening as an influx of uncomfortable feelings rushed into him. It seemed an eternity later when Harry’s tears eventually subsided and his breathing evened out. Draco dropped off uneasily.

 

***

Draco woke up early the next morning. It was a nice Saturday, one that he usually would have spent playing Quidditch at school. He would have to go back to Hogwarts soon; Lucius Malfoy had excused Draco from school on Friday for the celebrations. 

He squinted against the sun and reached out to close the curtains around his bed. He had gotten hold of the green velvet when his eyes ran over an unfamiliar object in his room: a crude monstrosity that stood out starkly against the classy decor. 

Then he remembered. Harry was here.

He bounced out of bed and ran to the crate. Through the narrow slats he could make out Harry curled up in it with his face down, and the only part of his head Draco could see was his dark tousled hair. 

“ _Alohomora!_ Harry, wake up.” The crate’s doors unlatched, but Draco’s order went unheeded. 

“ _I said, wake up!_ ” Draco commanded. 

There was no response at all. Infuriated, Draco grabbed hold of Harry’s wrist to haul him out of the crate, but his hand slipped. He brought his hand up to his face and stared at the blood coating it. 

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. 

He dragged Harry out of the crate. Harry’s wrists and forearms were covered in blood, blood that had smeared onto his body and pooled on the floor of his crate, coating it in a dark red-brown. Harry was limp, unconscious as blood continued to drip onto the floor, tingeing the sharp glass shards of the broken Skele-gro vial a reddish pink. The sight made Draco feel like retching. 

And then he started noticing all the wrong things - how Harry’s face was too white, striking against blood red, his breathing too slow, his pulse too faint - and he was seized by panic and numbness, and disbelief that his breeder would try to _kill himself_ before Draco even had a day with him - 

He screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, thanks for reading if you did. Before, I figured I'd just finish most of the story and upload it then, but I guess life doesn't work that way. I also didn't know kudos was this motivating. <3 Thank you! 
> 
> Poor Harry... he seems to be my stress outlet...


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

 

He screamed, and immediately a house elf popped next to him. 

“Master Draco is needing Dobby?” the shrivelled creature stuttered pathetically, eyes widening at Harry’s blood. Draco couldn’t have felt more thankful for the wretched things. 

“Take us to St. Mungo’s - _now!_ ” Tightening his grip around Harry’s wrist, he reached for the creature’s outstretched hand, closing his eyes briefly as he grasped it — and when he opened his eyes again, he was in the clean, though hectic lobby of St. Mungo’s. 

He gathered Harry into his arms and ran to the receptionist’s desk. He ignored the line and rudely pushed aside the blue-skinned witch talking to the bored-looking receptionist. 

The reception didn’t react as she glanced at Harry’s bare body. Uninterestedly, she droned, “Take him to the slave section. Next time, wait the line.”

Draco cursed out loud. “You blasted witch! Do you know _who_ I am? _Draco Malfoy!_ You will treat my slave _immediately_ , or take responsibility when he bleeds out!” He pulled back his sleeve and thrust the Mark in her face. 

The witch met Draco’s eyes and immediately paled. Aware of the consequences of getting on a Death Eater’s bad side, she scrambled to stand up and bowed. 

“I’m deeply sorry, Mr. Malfoy! The ward for external injuries is on the second floor. If you follow, I will lead you there right now.” She scurried in front of Draco and he walked after her briskly, leaving the line of people behind.

The Healer in the external injury ward smartly didn’t object when told to heal Harry. After the receptionist had scuttled back to her desk to sort out the mess Draco had created, Draco found himself ‘ _kicked out_ ’ of the room by the Healer — the only reason Draco hadn’t hexed her there and then was because Harry would most likely bleed to death if he did that, and he didn’t want that to happen. 

He sat outside the room in an unremarkable chair, staring at the plain white walls of St. Mungo’s. The place really needed some decorations. A mural of the Dark Mark would do nicely, he thought. He realised he really should inform his parents of what had happened and his whereabouts now. They might be worried. 

“Dobby!” 

The elf arrived in front of him. “Master Draco is calling Dobby. Dobby is - is - is overjoyed to — ” 

“Shut up,” Draco cut the creature’s insincere flattery off, irritated. “Go and tell Mother and Father that I am in St. Mungo’s to treat my breeder. Tell them not to worry. I will enlighten them in detail when I’m back.” Dobby nodded his head furiously and Apparated away.

Draco sat there, in his unremarkable seat in the unremarkable hallway. He fiddled with his wand, played with the sleeve of his robe, stared at the blank wall in front of him.

To his relief, the door to the ward slid open soon enough, and the Healer was beckoning him in. Draco stepped into the room, where several beds were lined up, curtained off for a little more privacy. Harry was in the bed furthest from the door. Draco stood next to it.

“Lord Malfoy —”

“I’m not the head of the family yet,” Draco distractedly said. 

The Healer coughed. “My apologies, Mr. Malfoy. Your slave was very close to death just now; he was suffering from severe blood loss. The cuts on his arms have been healed and he has been given a blood-replenishing potion. He’s been cleaned up too. I expect for him to be fine.” 

Draco didn’t reply, or make any sign that he had heard what the Healer had said. The Healer coughed again. 

“And… Mr. Malfoy, if you don’t mind me saying,” she paused, “I would suggest you not… pressure… your slave too much. Slaves’ attempts to suicide really have inc— ”

“Cease.” Draco said. The Healer closed her mouth with a clack. 

“I apologise. Please make sure it doesn’t try to injure itself again. St. Mungo’s will always be happy to offer its services.” The Healer turned and left. 

Draco was left alone. He suppressed his annoyance at the gall of that Healer — who did she think she was, criticising a Malfoy? He calmed himself and looked at Harry. 

Harry was still pale, but now he wasn’t that sickly shade of white that he had been that morning. His arms were free of marks or scars, the cuts having disappeared, as if they had never been there. One of Harry’s wrists were chained to the bedpost. 

Draco undid them. He picked Harry up, glad at his lightness, and Apparated back to the Manor. 

“Draco, what happened?” Narcissa Malfoy fussed as soon as he returned. 

He sighed. “Mother, it was nothing to worry about, so please don’t stress yourself.” 

His father interrupted, “Son, why were you at St. Mungo’s?” 

“Well, my new slave decided he’d try to kill himself, and I stopped him —”

“ _What?_ ” Lucius’ eyes bulged, “Do you have any idea of how much your breeder is _worth?_ You better make sure that he understands who his life belongs to. Draco, you do know that my expectations of you are high?” 

“Of course, Father,” he answered. He smirked for good measure. “No need to worry.” 

***

Harry woke in his crate. 

He had failed, then. He was awake and back. He was flooded by disappointment, and when it all drained out, he felt empty. He had failed, and most likely, he wouldn’t get any more opportunities. 

The crate was cramped as always. He tried to shift his arms, but found that he couldn’t, his hands restrained behind his back. He realised the crate had been cleaned, the blood and shards of the Skele-gro vial cleared away. 

With a slight creak, the door of Malfoy’s bedroom opened, and Malfoy himself stepped in. He had a pinched look on his pale, pointy face, making him look even pointier. Malfoy walked towards him, stopping at a distance close enough that Harry could only see his shoes and the hems of his robes. Malfoy stood there, unmoving.

“Why?

“Why would you try to end your own life?” 

Harry couldn’t believe this asshole. Did he really not get it? 

He glared at Malfoy’s leather shoes. 

“What do you think?” he hissed. “I would rather die than be with the likes of you.” 

He felt a burst of satisfaction as he watched Malfoy’s face scrunch up in fury. He didn’t even regret it when Malfoy yelled _Crucio._ He nearly smiled as he screamed. 

Draco couldn’t believe the nerve of this breeder. He’d insulted him, a _Malfoy_ , and he’d caused more trouble than he had the right to, and the sheer defiance and anger his eyes shouldn’t have belonged to a slave — he felt his anger overtake him, and he let it. He _Crucio_ ed the slave as thoughts ran rampant through his head, indignation and vexation and offence, listening to Harry’s screams become increasingly hoarse and raw, until the boy lay there convulsing, no sound coming out of his throat other than small whimpers and rasps — 

He caught himself. He stopped the spell. It had been more than a few minutes. 

Harry was silent inside the crate. 

Panicked, Draco knelt in front of the crate to peer inside. He couldn’t see much. He opened the door of the crate, exposing Harry to his view. To his relief, Harry seemed fine, if a little shell-shocked. 

He straightened. “Know your place, slave,” he declared, “Your life isn’t yours. It’s mine. You don’t have the right to end it.” He puffed his chest outward. 

Long, silent minutes passed before Harry said anything. 

“You shouldn’t have stopped,” he croaked. 

“What?” Draco’s brows came together. 

“You should have kept going,” Harry said, “shouldn’t have stopped _Crucio_ ing me.”

Draco waited impatiently for him to elaborate. Harry was testing him to limits Draco usually would not go to. Harry continued. 

“You could have let me go crazy.” 

Draco scoffed. “Crazy? Don’t you even know that that’s worse than being a mudblood?” 

“…go crazy, like Neville… then I wouldn’t be here anymore. They’d put me down,” Harry muttered. 

Draco pretended he hadn’t heard that. “Harry, what do you think about another lust potion?” 

That brought Harry back immediately. “No! No, _no_ , I hate those things —”

His protests continued as Draco left for his Potions cabinet and returned with a vial of dirty orange potion. He unstoppered the vial and crouched down to Harry’s level. 

Harry continued, “You want me to want you — but that’s _never_ going to happen. You can force that shit on me but we all know that no one can bear to have sex with Draco Malfoy without a lust potion! You —”

Glaring icily, Draco cut him off. “I would take you dry right now just to see your expression. Unfortunately, I’d rather see you beg for it.” 

Green eyes glinted angrily. “You’re a git.” 

“And you’re my slave,” Draco retorted. Stupid boy, too mouthy for his own good. He pulled Harry half out of the crate and grabbed his face to hold him still as he pushed the neck of the vial into his mouth. Harry shut his eyes, resigning himself to the dose. As the potion trickled inside him, he could feel heat pooling deep within himself, slowly spreading, and the dreaded haze settling heavily everywhere, numbing and blurring his consciousness. 

When the vial was empty Draco moved back and vanished it away. No more glass shards for Harry to abuse. Harry was quiet, bowed over his knees with his hands behind his back. Draco could see the flush creeping up his body. 

“Do you have anything you want to say, Harry?” 

“No!” Harry gritted out. 

“Suit yourself,” Draco sneered. He flounced over to his school trunk and took his school books out. With Harry in a huff, he might as well work on his Transfiguration essay. 

He sat at his desk, where a large Slytherin banner hung, snakes slithering and hissing quietly. Opening his textbook and spreading out his parchment, he dipped his quill in black ink and began to write. He cursed McGonagall to hell as he wrote. 

He felt satisfaction as he saw that his essay was getting longer and longer, nearing the requirement of two feet. Every so often, he could hear Harry shift around amid the scratching noises made by his quill. 

Hours seemed to have passed. Draco put down his quill, Transfiguration essay complete. He picked it up again to write a note to Blaise to gloat about his essay. 

“…Please…” 

Draco set the quill down. His lip curled up into a triumphant smirk. 

“What, Harry?” he drawled. 

Harry swallowed. The haze was taking over, he couldn’t hold on, couldn’t stop it anymore. He let go of his pride and let the haze overwhelm him. Now the only thing he could see was relief.

“Please sir, please fuck me,” he begged. 

Draco raised his eyebrows, tilting his head mockingly. “Please what?”

“ _Master! Please fuck me!_ ” 

Draco smiled. Harry really was easy to control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) Thank you for the kudos, you are amazing...  
> Also, I don't beta my stuff, so if you spot any mistakes, please tell me and I'll fix them.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the really late update. But it's longer than the other ones! It's probably going to get harder and harder to update quickly because I'm getting smothered by my workload, but I definitely will continue writing. Also, thank you so much for 100 kudos! It's exactly 100 right now :D:D:D

Chapter Four

It was very early in the morning. The sun had barely come up, and the sky was a pale greyish blue, timidly getting brighter. Harry had woken up before the blond lying next to him, the feverish itch and hotness that had crazed him the night before gone. 

He shifted and shuddered as he felt the plug slip slightly. Malfoy had ejaculated in him and plugged him the night before. Harry even remembered his exact words — _breed you with little Malfoys, you greedy little slut_. The thought disgusted him. He tried not to think about the outcome of that. 

He tried to move away but couldn’t, because Malfoy had stuck his arm and his leg over him. He jerked the leg off regardless of the plug prodding his prostate, but found he couldn’t do anything about the arm because the bastard had bound his hands together and chained them to the headboard. No more vial-destroying nor using said vial to kill himself. 

Harry gave up and just waited. The lingering claws of sleep engulfed him every so often, and he drifted, between dreamless fuzz and the weight of Malfoy’s arm. 

Hours had passed by the time Malfoy finally deigned to wake up. He yawned and stretched, then curled himself over Harry, who lay on his side facing away from him, arms pulled up. 

“Morning, Harry,” his owner whispered. Harry stayed silent; he had nothing to say. 

Draco could feel his sleep ebbing away as the weight on his eyelids lightened. He could see Harry’s smooth back, and trailed his fingertip along his sharply protruding shoulder blades. He followed the line of his spine down to the beginning of Harry’s buttocks, feeling the butt plug still nestled between the ass cheeks. He gave it a few twists, a few pushes. He heard Harry stifle a moan. 

Reluctantly, Draco got out of bed. He released Harry from his bonds and made his way to the bathroom, ordering Harry to crawl after him. Draco was pleased to see that the house elves had thought in advance and prepared the hot, wonderfully bubbly bath already. He slipped his pyjama bottoms off and stepped into the huge tub, relaxing instantly as the steaming water enveloped him in heat and bliss. He leaned back, sighing in satisfaction. 

Harry was still on the floor. Harry was always so slow and unwilling, Draco thought critically, except when he was under the potion, but he didn’t feel that annoyed about that anymore. He gestured for Harry to get in the bath. 

Harry slowly stood to climb the stairs leading up to the enormous bath. He stepped in reluctantly and was immediately tugged into a position straddling his master. 

Draco surveyed Harry, who immediately looked to the side to avoid eye contact with him. Draco tilted Harry’s chin upward and stared into Harry’s beautiful green eyes. He could tell that Harry was focusing somewhere else, probably on the wall behind the tub or something, but Draco wasn’t bothered by that. For now, Harry didn’t plan to pull another petty act of rebellion. 

He let go. He smirked into Harry’s face. Harry glanced at him for a split second, then returned to pretending he wasn’t here. That was fine, because Draco would remind him he was. 

Draco’s hands snaked down to Harry’s bottom again. He took hold of the plug and pushed in into Harry, then pulled it out slightly, repeating the motions until Harry’s breath hitched at the pressure teasing his hole. Draco took advantage of Harry’s intake of breath and moved in to press his lips against the other boy’s. Harry stayed pliant as Draco’s tongue entered his mouth and explored it, one of his hands curling behind Harry’s head to keep him in position. Harry whimpered through the kiss as Draco’s other hand kept playing with the plug, twisting it and slowly fucking him with it. 

Draco broke the kiss and Harry gasped, taking in big breaths of air. The plug’s movements grew larger until Draco was full-on fucking Harry with it and Harry was puffing in frustration, his prostate stimulated and his cock hard. 

Draco stopped abruptly. Harry whined. Draco smirked, “Already desperate even though I’ve only played with your hole. Tells us something, doesn’t it, Harry?” 

Harry raised his head and looked straight at him, his eyes wild but now focusing on Draco’s. “No,” he stopped as he panted, “No — I mean _yes_ , it does tell me something. It tells me you’re stimulating the prostate gland, which arouses humans. And if I did the same thing to you, you would react _exactly the same_ —”

Draco slipped his thumb inside Harry next to the plug. “No, that is _not_ what it tells us, Harry.” He slipped another thumb inside the tight hole, which allowed him in, no doubt sopping wet with lubricant by now. He pressed his thumbs against Harry’s walls, relishing the resulting groan. 

“What it tells us is,” he leaned closer to Harry, “that you’re my slutty, sex-crazed whore, who’s going to spend the rest of his life grovelling for me to pay attention to his ickle desires.” Harry’s eyes flashed in anger and he glared at Draco’s smirk, even as Draco slipped his thumbs out of his ass and pulled the plug out, wrenching a cry from him. He tossed the plug behind him, hearing it clatter onto the floor. Harry jolted. Draco watched Harry’s slender shoulders heave. 

“I think you want my cock in your hole,” he leered. 

“No, I don’t want your prick,” Harry retaliated. 

Draco was ticked off, but he worked not to show it. He curled his lip. “Well, I feel like sticking it in you, so that’s what’s happening,” he announced. He grabbed Harry’s narrow hips and pushed him onto his dick in one movement. Draco’s throat tightened at the pleasure of a tight, warm hole sheathing his cock. Harry cried out at the sudden intrusion and the overwhelming feeling of fullness he was flooded with. 

Draco kept his hands on Harry’s hips and forced him up and down his dick, moaning depravedly. He wrapped a hand around Harry’s stiff dick again but Harry didn’t notice, inundated with euphoria as he was fucked fervently. Harry had arched backwards, and Draco slotted himself in the space, kissing and licking and sucking on his slave’s pale unmarked throat. 

He felt himself teeter on the brink of release. He knew Harry was about to go over. 

As he released, he crushed the base of Harry’s dick, squeezing with his hand until he was sure that it would be unpleasant. Harry screamed as pain suddenly overtook pleasure when agony flared up in his shaft, ruining his orgasm. He breathed heavily. 

“You _bastard_ ,” he hissed. 

Draco found himself and schooled his expression from a vacant one into a lazy smile. “You were the one that didn’t want my ‘prick’.” 

“And you were the asshole that put it in anyway!” Harry snarled. 

“Then, Harry,” Draco shook his head condescendingly, “learn to be truthful to yourself. What did you really want? My cock. Breeders naturally do. There’s your lesson.” 

He reached for the shampoo, ignoring Harry’s disbelieving expression. 

***

They were both clean and dry when they finally exited the bathroom. Draco sat on the edge of his bed, clad in robes of dark grey, while Harry knelt at his feet silently, butt plug having been reinserted. Draco felt smug at the sight of Harry’s dark head bowed beneath him, long-fingered hands folded together on his lap. He doubted Harry even knew they were there. 

“I’m going to lay the rules down,” Draco declared. 

“First, I walk, you crawl. Stand for stairs. You crawl unless I tell you not to. Second, you are not to touch yourself without my permission. You belong to me, not you. Third, if you do anything that reflects badly on me, there will be consequences. And lastly, I’m going to add rules when I feel like it, and you will be obeying. Understand?” 

Harry nodded faintly, still looking downwards. 

“Right, now that’s done…” Draco looked at Harry’s form, which was littered with love bites. “You need to be marked.” 

Harry flinched. He raised his head and opened his mouth, green eyes flashing with fire again. “You don’t need to permanently maim me, you’ve made it pretty clear I’m —”

Draco cut him off. “Does it matter what you think? No. I’m in charge here, breeder, and I want to mark you. Deal with it.” Harry’s expression was unreadable, the only sign of his distress being his clenched hands. 

“So where shall the mark go?” Draco wondered aloud, partly to spite the tense boy in front of him. “The neck’s a no, too public an area. Not the back, I want you to see it, remind you of what you are. Where….” he scanned Harry’s body. 

“Yes, the hip will do fine, I suppose,” he decided. “Right hip. No, left hip? What do you think, Harry?” 

Harry had pressed his lips together tightly into a thin line. He stayed silent, holding himself stiffly. 

“Do you want it on your dick?” 

“Left,” Harry muttered. 

“Left hip it is, then,” Draco agreed. He pointed his wand at Harry’s left hip. “ _Morpieloro!_ ” 

Harry felt a tingle as the spell hit his skin, and then a series of prickles on the border between itchy and painful. He brought himself to look at his hip, and cringed as he saw the Malfoy family crest being stitched onto it. He felt strangely detached as he watched the dark colours threading into his skin, as if it wasn’t his. 

Draco smiled in pride and contentment as the Malfoy crest came into view on Harry’s hip. Not too big and not too small, just around a third of the size of his palm. Yes, he knew he was tasteful, yes. He disregarded the way Harry looked away from the mark uncomfortably, but most slaves were marked. Of course the Malfoys would make sure what was theirs stayed theirs. 

“And one more thing,” Draco said. He stood up and walked around to the back of the crate, opening the metal box behind it. From it he took a painful-looking device out and brought it over to Harry, crouching next to the kneeling boy. 

“You will always be wearing this unless I tell you to take it off,” he said, dangling the chastity device in front of Harry’s face. Harry fixed his gaze on it, green eyes widening in horror at the steel monstrosity, and he reflexively recoiled from the contraption. 

“Don’t move,” Draco commanded, and started putting the device on Harry, who kept his facial expression impassive but couldn’t stop biting his lip and fisting his hands. Draco hit him lightly on the mouth. Harry grudgingly stopped chewing his lip. 

The metal contraption consisted of numerous silver rings connected together in a stiff curve. Harry’s balls were constrained by a metal band, pulled away from his dick, around which the rings fit snugly. They would be pinching and squeezing him painfully if his cock got any bigger. The inside of the ring at the bottom of his shaft had spikes pointing inwards, which would ensure that a lot of pain would be involved whenever Harry got aroused. With it on, he wouldn’t be able to enjoy anything sexual. Draco snapped a small lock onto the restraint, and it was complete. 

He reached out and fondled the caged organ, rubbing the head and the slit with his thumb, massaging it through its silver bonds. Harry’s cock twitched and rose slightly in interest, and then Harry hissed in discomfort as the rings and spikes dug into his skin, the pain forcing his penis to soften again. 

Draco laughed. “I might let you orgasm if you beg me nicely,” he taunted. 

Harry looked down at himself at his confined manhood and shut his eyes tightly. When he opened them again, he made sure to look away from the sight and kept his eyes on the floor.

Draco took advantage of Harry’s stillness to snap a metal collar around his neck. He attached a thin chain to it and pulled it, making Harry fall over as his body tried to follow the jerk to his neck. Draco tugged on the leash impatiently as he started walking. Harry was forced to follow crawling on the floor, barely managing to keep up with Draco’s pace. He kept his silence. The collar reminded him of the worst moments he’d had in the training centre and he struggled to keep them at bay. 

Draco walked out of his bedroom. It was time for a leisurely Sunday lunch with his parents in the dining room downstairs. He walked through the long, marble-floored corridors of Malfoy Manor and went down the grand winding stairs to the first floor, seeing out the corner of his eye that behind him Harry stood to walk down the stairs as he had told him to. Harry dropped to the floor again once the stairs ended. 

Harry was half relieved when the walk ended when they finally arrived at the dining room, but the other half was full of dread of the unknown. 

The dining room was light and airy, rays of sunshine coming through the great tall windows and warming the room, glinting off the smooth white marble floor, emphasising the brightness of the colours of the flowers displayed. The house elves did do a remarkable job of keeping everything nice. 

In the middle of the room was a table carved of dark wood, with similarly carved chairs equipped with cushions. At the head of the table sat Lucius Malfoy, and in the next seat, Narcissa, delicately holding their utensils. 

Lucius noticed him first. “Ah, Draco,” he welcomed, beckoning him over to the table; Draco did as he gestured, pulling out the chair across from his mother. Harry stayed kneeling by his foot under the table. 

“Good morning, Father. I trust you slept well?” Draco sat down. 

“I did, and it must be nearer to noon than morning by now. I suppose you were enjoying yourself?” Lucius smirked. 

Draco smirked back at the original Malfoy smirk that he had tried so hard to master when he’d been young. “Well yes, Father, I did indeed.” Lucius Malfoy looked satisfied. 

The corners of his mother’s mouth turned down. “Let us not discuss such matters at the table,” she said primly. Lucius raised his eyebrow at Draco and smirked again, and Draco was filled with the warmth of his father’s acceptance, and he wanted to revel in it forever and never let the feeling go. 

Draco clicked his fingers for a house elf. Unbeknownst to him, Harry jolted in surprise under the table. He hated that he couldn’t see anything except shoes and calves, and that he didn’t know what the fuck Malfoy expected him to do here, so he tried as hard as he could to hide his presence, to make Malfoy forget he was there. 

The house elf Apparated to him immediately. Draco ordered the creature to bring his usual Sunday lunch fillet. The elf was back in a split second with a perfectly set dish. Draco began to eat heartily. 

He was awakened from his beef-induced bliss by a low growling noise. Harry. Harry hadn’t eaten since the day he had been given to Draco. Draco looked down at the table to see Harry with his hands pressed on top of his stomach, trying to silence it. 

“Aww, Harry, you’re hungry!” Draco exclaimed. He cut off a piece of meat and held it carefully between his fingers, offering it under the table where Harry was. “Eat.” 

Harry glared at the pale white hand that appeared under the table, and at the piece of steak offered to him.

“Eat, breeder. I might not give you more chances to eat today.” 

Lucius Malfoy’s eyebrows rose. “Draco, you must handle it with more firmness.” He peered under the table at Harry’s bare kneeling form, gauging his position. Then he kicked. His dragon hide boots caught Harry’s side and Harry keeled over like a solitary domino. “ _Bitch, obey your Master!_ ” 

Harry coughed breathlessly as he righted himself. Draco jabbed him with the piece of steak. Harry opened his mouth to take the piece, and when Draco didn’t take his fingers away, licked the sauce smeared on his fingers off. The fillet was, to Harry’s annoyance, magnificent — the house elves had imbued in it a fantastic explosion of flavour, much unlike the bland, unfilling gruel-like things they had been given at the centre. 

Draco took hold of his utensils again and exchanged smug smiles with his father. Narcissa closed her mouth and put her fork down, her plate not even half cleared. 

“I feel rather full. I will excuse myself first, Lucius, Draco.” With that, she stood and glided away. 

“Later, Mother.” Draco fed Harry another piece of his fillet. Harry swallowed. His Adam’s apple caught on the edge of the collar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it looks like it's just getting darker and bleaker and no change is happening but hopefully in the coming chapters I can put more plot into this.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3000+ words! That might not seem like that long a chapter but it really is compared to the first three. (nearly double haha)

Chapter Five

 

“Draco,” his Father drawled, “What do you plan to do with the boy now? You will have to return to Hogwarts by today.” 

It was an unwelcome reminder. “Father, what would you suggest?” he asked. 

Lucius raised an eyebrow, “Draco, be more independent. You are seventeen.” 

Draco swallowed at the hint of disapproval in his father’s voice. He hurriedly attempted to cover up his mistake. “I will take him to Hogwarts with me, Father. I am sure the others will be very impressed, and I refuse to allow even Hogwarts to stop a Malfoy from enjoying his property.” 

Lucius nodded, appeased. Draco felt pride blooming inside him again. “Father, Severus will definitely agree?” 

“Yes, Severus will not have any problem with it. If he does I will take care of _that_ ,” Lucius said. “And we both know that the Board is an infestation of imbeciles.” 

“Thank you, Father. I will get ready to return to Hogwarts.” Draco rose from his chair and pulled Harry’s chain. Harry crawled out from underneath the table and followed Draco back to the bedroom.

Draco replaced the few books he had taken out of his trunk back into it, making sure everything was back in place before closing it and locking it shut. He ambled over to where Harry was on the floor and bound Harry’s wrists behind his back. It was a precaution he always took after the distasteful incident that had resulted in Harry being rushed to St. Mungo’s. 

Harry didn’t put up much of a fight, which surprised Draco until Harry opened his mouth. “Malfoy, what are you so scared of? Can’t handle a _breeder_ if it’s not tied up?”

Draco glared at Harry’s mocking expression. “For your information, this _particular_ breeder seems to be unable to bear living without its master. I’m giving you a symbol of Master’s love for you.”

All of a sudden, Harry looked murderous. “Death is better than _you_ ,” he spat. 

“I think you need another reminder of how much you love me,” Draco said primly. 

Harry watched him walk away and come back with a familiar vial of potion in his hand. Bile rose in his throat as he saw the dirty orange liquid sloshing inside the glass bottle that Malfoy had unstoppered. 

“ _You_ —” 

Harry’s words were cut off as Draco held his slave’s jaw still and poured the potion down his throat. The last of the potion trickled into Harry’s mouth. 

Harry scowled at him. “ _Fuck you._ ” 

Draco smirked. “No, fuck _you._ ” Harry grimaced at the innuendo. Draco pushed Harry in the direction of the crate to make him get the idea, and Harry climbed into the crate without a further word. Draco locked him in. 

He shrunk his trunk and put it into his pocket. Unfortunately it would be difficult to shrink the crate with Harry in it, so he levitated it to the first floor, where the Floo was. He left it next to the fireplace and went back upstairs to say goodbye to his parents. 

Narcissa Malfoy was in the study, sipping a cup of tea as she read. She looked up at the sound of Draco entering and marked her page before closing the book. 

“Mother, I will head back to Hogwarts.” 

“You won’t be staying until dinner?” Narcissa asked anxiously. 

“No,” Draco smiled, “I have nothing to do here. I’ll just go back to school now, talk to my friends and all.” 

Narcissa smiled back. “My little dragon, already so grown up.” 

Draco shifted uncomfortably in embarrassment. “Stop calling me your ‘dragon’, I’m not five anymore!” 

Narcissa smiled fondly. “You’ll always be my little boy, Draco. You know that.” Her smile was replaced by a frown as she remembered the poor boy Lucius had bought. “How about the boy?” 

“Oh, my breeder?” Draco smirked, “I’m bringing him to Hogwarts. Mother, you have no idea how jealous Pansy and the others are going to be!”

Narcissa’s frown didn’t abate. “Draco, I’m not sure taking him to school is a good idea; it isn’t even allowed.” 

Draco waved her words off. “Severus will allow it, and he’s the Headmaster. And Father approved it already.” 

Narcissa put a hand on his shoulder. The weight of it startled Draco. 

“Draco, the poor boy has a name, doesn’t he?” 

Draco frowned. “Yes. Harry. What about it?” 

Narcissa sighed. Draco really was ignorant sometimes, she thought. “Referring to him as an object disregards his humanity, Draco.” 

“He’s my breeder. His role to serve me is more important than his, er, humanity.”

“Breeders don’t have the best of lives, Draco. Don’t make it too hard for him, will you?” It was obvious that her son was confused. Internally sighing, she smiled lightly and the perplexed look in Draco’s eyes disappeared. 

“Yes, yes, Mother. Where is Father?” 

“Your father has been called away for important Death Eater business,” Narcissa said. 

Draco blinked. “Oh. Then I’ll head back now, shall I?” He turned, and Narcissa rose to walk with him to the Floo. 

Draco tossed the standard pinch of Floo powder into the fireplace and dragged the crate inside with him. Narcissa unhappily looked at the huddled, panting boy who had curled into himself, blocking the world out. She averted her gaze. 

“Goodbye, Draco.” 

“Mother, I will see you soon. The holidays are barely three weeks away. Goodbye!” With that, her son disappeared from sight, and the flames turned from green back to their original orange brightness. 

 

***

Hogwarts was the same as ever, Draco thought, as he appeared in the Headmaster’s office. On stools and small tables dispersed around the office were the strangest instruments that moved on their own, propelled by magic to stir and decant potions. His godfather, who was sitting behind a huge mahogany desk, looked up at Draco. 

“Ah, Draco, I see you are back,” Severus commented dryly. “You are free to go.” 

Draco stepped out of the Floo and pulled the crate out. “Severus, did my father tell you that I’m bringing my breeder to school?” 

Severus sneered at the crate. “Draco, I would have thought yourself above such things. But yes, I have allowed it.”

“On some conditions, Mr. Malfoy,” a voice rang out. Draco turned to see Professor McGonagall stride into the office. 

Minerva McGonagall looked at the horrid cage and the thin boy in it whose rough breaths were escalating as she spoke. Draco surreptitiously cast a _Silencio_ on Harry but received an accusing glare from McGonagall anyway. 

“Firstly, Mr. Malfoy, you cannot flaunt this to the other students in Hogwarts. Any… _debauchery_ must be contained within your dorm.” Draco smirked. “Speaking of dorms, you must make sure the other Slytherin boys do not object.” 

“Oh, they won’t,” Draco drawled. 

“ _Secondly,_ ” McGonagall sniffed, “He must look decent. He needs to be clothed. This also means that he will be walking.”

“Who are _you_ to tell me what to do with _my_ things?” Draco protested. 

“You will not influence the other students.”

“He’s mine, I’ll do as I like with him!” 

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips. “That may be so, but Hogwarts is still an institute, Mr. Malfoy. All people are to act and be clothed decently.” 

Draco gave her a dirty look, but the old hag didn’t budge, a hard look in her eyes. He wished the Dark Lord had replaced her with someone more like Slughorn. 

“Fine,” he glowered. “May I go now?” 

“Wait, Draco,” his godfather said, “I will have your breeder moved to your room by a house elf.”

“Thanks, Severus,” Draco replied. He swung open the door and left. 

The familiar corridors of Hogwarts were welcoming. A few first year Slytherins stared at him in awe as he passed them. The password to the Slytherin common room hadn’t changed, and when he got to the dorm, he found the crate already there and the dorm mostly empty except for Blaise Zabini, who glanced at him from where he was lying spreadeagled on his bed. 

“How was the party?” 

“Boring,” Draco replied. Blaise didn’t bother to answer. 

Draco enlargened his trunk and put it at the foot of his bed, where he always put it. He dragged Harry’s crate next to the trunk. Harry didn’t make a noise as he was still under the _Silencio_ , but his flushed cheeks and big breaths made his state obvious to Draco. 

“Birthday present?” Blaise asked dryly. Draco nodded. 

“Where are the others?” He asked. 

Blaise shrugged. “Library, I think. They should be back soon.” 

As soon as Blaise finished his sentence, the other boys walked in. They all nodded in greeting at him then stopped abruptly as they realised Harry’s presence. 

Nott spoke first. “Malfoy, is this your breeder?” 

“Yes. Father gave him to me for my birthday.” Draco basked in Nott’s admiration. Unfortunately, Crabbe and Goyle stood there staring stupidly at the metal crate like great blobs of statues in the doorway. 

“Vince, Greg, _move._ ” The two massive boys blinked and moved towards the crate, peering inside and between the bars at the figure inside. 

“What’s in it?” Vince asked. 

“My new breeder,” Draco explained.

“You got a breeder?” Greg repeated in wonderment. 

“Yes, Greg, I got him for my birthday.” 

“Why’s he naked?” Vince wanted to know. 

“Because breeders don’t need clothes; they’re going to take them off anyway,” Draco said, exasperated. Crabbe and Goyle blinked slowly. Draco sighed and turned away. How the pair had even passed a single OWL was beyond him. 

Aware of his roommates’ gaze, Draco unlocked the crate and beckoned Harry out. Harry was flushed and trembling from the effects of the lust potion, eyes unfocused and hazy once again. He tried to shuffle out of the crate on his knees as his hands were restrained behind his back. Once he had managed to, he blindly searched for the nearest part of Draco he could find (in this case, his right leg) and leaned against it, resting his cheek on it. Draco ruffled the mass of soft dark hair and left Harry to his attempts to seduce him. He looked up to find Vince, Greg and Nott all staring at Harry and him, with the exception of Blaise who was staring at the ceiling again. 

Nott coughed awkwardly. “Er, it’s time for dinner. Let’s go.” 

“Wait,” Draco said, “I want to take him too.” All eyes immediately turned to Harry. 

“Did the headmaster allow it?” Nott asked. 

“Well, McGonagall just gave me a lot of shite about it,” Draco drawled, “but we all know McGonagall can’t actually do anything to me. She knows Father could get rid of her in half a second. I think the only thing Severus is serious about is him” — he shook the leg Harry was leaning on — “wearing clothes in public.” 

He looked around to see Vince, Greg and Nott looking at him in awe. He smirked smugly. 

“Greg, get me my spare set of black robes. They’re in the second drawer.”

Greg fumbled to open the drawer and rooted around inside, making Draco wince and regret not getting the robes himself. Eventually Greg surfaced with the black robes clutched in his hand and he passed them to Draco, who took them from him. 

Draco leaned down and freed Harry’s hands. He draped Harry in the robes and Harry put his arms in the sleeves without any prompting by Draco. He buttoned them up. Deciding he would reward Harry for his good behaviour later, Draco pulled Harry to stand. Nothing was visible from the neck down. 

“Let’s go,” Draco said impatiently to the other boys, who were being rather slow. He strode out of the room with Harry’s wrist grasped firmly in his hand, and Harry stumbled behind him. He heard the other boys hurry to follow him. Harry suppressed the arousal and the haze as much as he could — he really didn’t want things to get any worse than they already were.

The Great Hall was full of students when they entered. As they walked to the Slytherin table a sudden hush came over the hall as the students noticed the unfamiliar boy behind Draco Malfoy and the black band around his neck. The Great Hall erupted with excited whispers as Draco put an arm around Harry’s hunched form and sat him down beside him at the Slytherin table, where Pansy and the other girls already sat eating. Their eyes widened as they took in the sight. Pansy froze. 

Nott spoke first. “Draco’s father gave him a breeder.” Rather unnecessary, Draco thought.

“ _Draco_ ,” Pansy shot him a dirty look, “Is _that_ why you won’t be with me anymore?” 

“Pansy,” Draco sighed as he raised an eyebrow, “I’ve had him for three days now.” Pansy sniffed disdainfully. She still hadn’t come to terms with the fact that Draco had dumped her. 

The others had all sat down. They started to take forkfuls of food from the middle of the table to their plates and eat. Still painfully aware of the attention from the students, Harry looked down at his hands folded on his lap, head bowed and back hunched. He was stiff and motionless under the arm that was still wrapped around his shoulders. 

Pansy looked at Harry’s dark lashes. “It’s because of his eyes, isn’t it,” she accused. “You always had an eye fetish. Is it because my eyes aren’t pretty enough?” Nott rolled his eyes discreetly. “And you resorted to dirtying yourself with a mudblood breeder, just because of a pretty face!” 

“For your information, Harry’s a _halfblood_ ,” Draco snapped. 

“Like _that’s_ the important thing,” Pansy retorted. “But in response, I didn’t know a _Malfoy_ would deign to touch anything _impure_.” 

“That’s none of your business, Parkinson.” 

“Oh, so now I’m ‘Parkinson’ and he’s ‘Harry’?” Pansy looked livid. 

The dark-haired girl sitting next to Pansy spoke up. “Pansy, don’t —”

Pansy whirled around. “Don’t _what_ , Davis? Remember your place, _all of you!_ I’m a _pureblood!_ ” She glowered at Harry. The girl flinched. Draco stared right back at Pansy, annoyed. 

Daphne patted her friend, who looked like she was about to cry, on the back. She flicked her blonde hair back. “Pansy, what Tracey meant is that it’s not a good idea to whine to Draco in such a public place,” she said icily. She was unperturbed by Pansy’s glare. 

“Parkinson, deal with your shite somewhere else,” Blaise said as he joined the table for dinner. 

Pansy gave an outraged huff. “Right, so you all side with the breeder, is that it?” She stood up abruptly. “I’m leaving.” 

Draco sneered at her. “The breeder didn’t say a single word, Parkinson. No one cares about it. You’re just being a jealous bitch as usual.” 

“Draco, you’re going to regret this. You’re going to change your mind,” Pansy snarled. 

“Make me,” Draco challenged. 

“Oh, I will,” Pansy snapped as she left. Bulstrode hurried after her. 

Draco turned his attention back onto Harry, who was still stubbornly motionless. He tightened his arm around the black-haired boy’s shoulders. “Harry, eat.” 

Harry didn’t look up. Draco didn’t feel too generous after dealing with Pansy’s antics, but he swallowed his annoyance, snagged a piece of bread from the table and dropped it in front of Harry. Slowly, Harry dragged it off the table and raised it to his mouth, taking a bite out of it and chewing. As he did so the sleeves of the robes slid down, exposing the manacles still on his wrists. 

In an uncharacteristic action of boldness, Tracey Davis put a plate in front of Harry. Harry’s eyes flickered to her briefly but the moment passed as if nothing had happened, and the plate stayed unused throughout the meal. 

 

***

It was nearly as humiliating as his time in the training centre. Harry cursed Malfoy to the depths of hell for what he had made him go through, kneeling and _leaning_ on Malfoy like some dog, naked, out of his mind, in front of other people, then making him feel like a freak show for hundreds of students to stare at and gossip about. The pug-faced, black-haired girl was making it clear that she didn’t want him there. He agreed with her; he didn’t want to be here either.

It was funny, how after his sale strangers were suddenly talking to him as if they knew him, as if they really _cared._ If they had, they would have come to save him a long time ago. They wouldn’t have just asked if his name was Harry Potter, talked about his parents as if they had any right to rub it into his face that they had known them and he hadn’t, not really; they wouldn’t then have wiped their faces clean of any expression and pretended their unsavoury, disreputable conversation hadn’t happened and sent him away with looks of pity. 

Because that was all their ‘care’ and ‘worry’ amounted to in the end. The Healer in St. Mungo’s had been the same. She had asked if he was Harry Potter. Then she’d gone on to tell him she was sorry. Told him to keep fighting. 

_Sorry._ As if she thought that would help him in some unfathomable way. 

The Headmaster and his deputy had been even worse. The oily black-haired man had been painfully awkward in the whole encounter, barely looking at him and saying very little until the end, when he told him he had known Lily Potter. Yet another person who thought their knowing Lily Potter was important to him. They’d said they’d tried to buy him, tried to rescue him. That just made him all the more bitter towards everything, about pureblood bigots and halfblood bystanders and gits like Malfoy. 

Was he Harry Potter? Harry Potter, son of Lily and James Potter? Or Harry Potter, part of the losing side of Wizarding Britain’s flourishing slave industry? Or was he a nameless nonentity, Draco Malfoy’s new toy until the day the bastard got bored of him? 

He tried to stop thinking. It wasn’t helping his sanity. 

 

***

The heavy silence in the Headmaster’s office was finally broken. 

“Severus —”

“Minerva, you know I cannot stop Lucius’ son from anything. If I did that we might see Alecto in this office, and then what would become of Hogwarts?”

Minerva’s face softened. “The poor boy. He really does have Lily’s eyes.” 

A muscle in Severus Snape’s face twitched. “Yes, I realised.”


	6. Chapter Six

The meagre group of sixth year Gryffindors at dinner looked up in surprise at the source of the sudden excitement. They fell silent at the sight of Malfoy strutting in with a slave at his side. 

Ron felt a lump in his throat as he watched the way Malfoy had thrown an arm over the other boy, effectively trapping him, and the way the other boy yielded to the invasion of privacy. He stared as he wondered what it must be like to live a life controlled by others. The life Neville likely was living now. He schooled his expression into the detached one Parvati had adopted. 

It was typical of Malfoy to buy people to assert his power over. Were there not enough people at Hogwarts, he wondered, snorting to himself. 

“I’m done,” Ron said, “I’m going first.” 

Seamus put his fork down. “I’ll go with you.” Ron nodded, and they stood up. Parvati waved at them briefly before turning to Lavender, who looked miserable. 

They were on their way to the Gryffindor common room when they saw the figures walking the other way. Ron cursed to himself. Malfoy. The blonde boy was swaggering down the corridor with his slave’s wrist in hand, followed by his lackeys. Ron backed up to the wall to let them pass. It was best not to make Malfoy angry; he’d learned the hard way. 

“Jealous, Weasley?” Malfoy sneered. “You should get one, if you can ever afford it. But then, what would one ever expect of a blood traitor?” He deliberately knocked into Ron as he passed and the two boys with Malfoy decided to copy the action. 

Malfoy turned back. “Finnigan, a word of advice. If you know what’s good for you, don’t associate with that blood traitor. He’s as good as a mudblood.” He walked away with his goons, laughing amongst themselves. 

Ron could feel himself vibrating in anger. Seamus looked at him and grabbed his arm. 

“Calm down and ignore him,” he said. “Everything he says is shite.”

“Malfoy — that git —”

“You know he’s not worth it,” Seamus ground out. 

Ron clenched his teeth. Seamus loosened the grip on his arm. Ron stood still pensively. 

“Seamus, you know you’ll probably be better off if you don’t hang around with me, right?”

Seamus scowled at him. “What’s wrong with you? What’s with that question?”

“But your mum —”

“My mum doesn’t control me. I’ve already told you. And for God’s sake, I thought I was your friend.” 

Ron swallowed. “Yeah. Yeah, you are.”

Seamus grinned and the awkward moment passed. “Forget about that ponce. Let’s go!”

 

***

Harry was lead to the bed. He sat on it, finding his vision increasingly blurry from the haze and the heat inside him approaching unbearable. He couldn’t suppress the whimpers that made their way past his lips from the pain due to the contraption locked around his member. He panted, hanging his head, as Malfoy’s hands pushed his own trembling ones out of the way to unbutton the borrowed black robes. He had the vague awareness that he was being watched by Malfoy’s roommates, but in his personal fire of desperation didn’t have his wits together enough to care. 

“Lie back,” Malfoy said once Harry was stripped naked. Stripped of his modesty and his dignity, in front of the world, as usual. Harry did what Malfoy told him to, panting at the movement. 

“Spread your legs,” Malfoy ordered. Harry did just that, turning his face away from Malfoy and his friends. 

Someone whistled. “Merlin, I’d like a breeder too. Seems great to have someone to open their legs whenever I feel like doing it.” 

Malfoy climbed onto the bed to crouch between Harry’s open legs. He pushed Harry’s knees further apart and pulled at Harry’s dick. Harry yelped as his member throbbed in pain and arousal. Malfoy fished out the key to the contraption from his pocket and unlocked it from Harry’s cock. 

“Because you’ve been good,” Malfoy stated, as if he needed an express reason to show the smallest of kindness to Harry. “Jerk yourself off. I’ll be watching.” 

It was surprising, because Harry had been expected something closer to the previous humiliation and violation. Harry curled his fingers around his now-erect cock and pulled frantically, desperate to escape the sexual frenzy he was trapped in. 

He came in a matter of seconds. He came down from his orgasm to see Malfoy smirking. A pregnant silence resonated throughout the dorm, Malfoy’s friends all gobsmacked by Harry’s lewd display. 

He broke it. “I don’t want to eat in the hall,” Harry whispered. And as if on second thought, “Please.” He had no idea why he’d just tried asking. 

“Fine,” said Malfoy. Harry glanced at him in incredulity. “Like I said, because you’ve been good.” Malfoy’s smirk turned up at the corner of his mouth. “So continue being a good slut like this, and I’ll give you what you want.” 

Harry felt a rush of humiliation anew. Malfoy hadn’t even undone his tie, not a hair unruffled, looking down at Harry from between his wantonly spread legs. The Slytherins remained on their beds, staring and murmuring commentaries to each other. And he, Harry, lay naked, feeling as if he had, in some strange way, just _propositioned_ Malfoy. 

Malfoy pushed himself off the bed and stood. 

“Clean yourself off and put my robes away back into my drawer, breeder.” The blonde turned away. “I’ll see that you get fed in some other place. But you’ll be eating in the Great Hall until tomorrow, and I’ll be taking you around to my lessons. Who knows when else those plebeians will get a glimpse at a breeder as valuable as mine?” 

Harry swallowed his shame and gathered the robes that lay in a pile at the edge of the bed. 

“Thank you.” 

 

***

The first lesson of the day was Dark Arts. 

Amycus Carrow was a dumpy, balding man who sported a shiny face and a complacent simper. He and his sister had done well after the Dark Lord’s victory, even gaining the position of Deputy Headmaster for a few years, until that shrew of a Transfiguration teacher had snatched it away. Something about future wizards having inadequate skills, which was nonsense; Amycus would hold his grudge on Snape for a long time, because surely everything was his fault. It didn’t have anything to do with the fact that he couldn’t blame his Lord for anything.

Amycus Carrow taught the Dark Arts at Hogwarts. The subject had been introduced after the uselessness of the former Defence Against the Dark Arts had been revealed, not that Amycus had suffered from any hiccups in his curriculum, of course. 

His sixth year students entered. It was a Slytherin-Gryffindor double period. The Death Eater smiled smarmily at his Slytherins. Amycus leered as he watched Draco arrive with his new boy behind him. 

“I heard from Lucius, Draco,” he smiled, “About his birthday present to you.” Damn Lucius and his vaults of Galleons; Amycus wouldn’t have minded having that one, not at all. 

“Yes sir. Thank you for coming to the celebrations, sir. Your presence was very meaningful.” 

Amycus’ laughter resembled the jarring screech of a rusty hinge. “Do tell Narcissa that it was a joy, will you?” He waddled up to the front of the classroom. The students were all in their seats except for Theodore Nott, who had moved next to Blaise Zabini as Draco had his slave next to him. 

“Today we will be revising the Imperius,” he announced cheerfully, unable to help himself from grinding his teeth together in glee. “Practical lesson! Stand up now, you Gryffindor fools!” 

The students all stood up and levitated their desks and chairs to the edges of the room, muttering in excitement about the lesson. 

Amycus coughed lightly. Then he bellowed. “Come here, imbeciles!”

A couple of first year Ravenclaws who had been cowering in the corner of the room stumbled out of it into view. Ron swallowed; he knew how scared they must be, since he had been in their position too many times to count.

“It’s time for detention, you dunces. Next time you’ll know that what the teacher says is always correct.” Amycus Carrow turned towards his sixth years again. “I’ll show you how the curse works, though you should already know. Imperio!” 

The spell hit one of the Ravenclaws, a scrawny boy with dirty blonde hair. The boy’s hands fell to his sides, his eyes glazed over. Amycus smirked. 

“Jump!” The boy jumped once. 

“Dance!” The boy leaped around the room, spinning randomly and looking silly, oblivious to the guffaws surrounding him. 

“Crawl!” The boy scrambled onto his hands and knees and crawled blindly. With a snigger, Amycus stopped the spell. 

Immediately the boy stopped, looking around him as his thoughts caught up with what had happened. Flushing in embarrassment, he stood stiffly, avoiding the amused looks and laughs from the sixth years. 

“Now, everyone take turns practicing,” Amycus said loudly, and went to sit down behind his desk, where he put his feet up and watched the students line up behind the shivering first years. 

The sounds of the students practicing one of Amycus’ favourite curses filled him with satisfaction. Unfortunately, it seemed that two subjects were nowhere near enough for the whole class to have sufficient practice. Pansy Parkinson was sitting in one of the chairs pushed against the wall, tired of standing. 

Amycus put his feet back down, stood and took Draco Malfoy aside. 

Draco looked bewildered. “What is it, sir?” 

“My favourite student! There is a lack of subjects today, I’m afraid. Would you mind allowing your peers to practice on your slave?” Amycus nodded his head towards the slave, who was sitting with his back against the wall, half hidden by the shadows and a desk. 

Draco hid his surprise and smiled at his teacher. It was always easy to make Carrow keep liking him. “Why not, Professor? The more, the merrier.” 

Amycus smiled in delight. Another victim! He watched as Draco dragged the boy over to the middle of the classroom and left him there in line with Amycus’ wand. The other students all paused at the disruption. The two first years crumpled to the floor as the spells on them were released, the blonde boy sobbing quietly. 

“Students, Draco here has given us another practice subject,” Amycus said, leering at the green-eyed boy in front of him. All eyes went to the slender boy who stood alone facing the Death Eater. “I’ll cast first. Imperio!” 

The spell hit him and Harry staggered. An eerily pleasant sensation came over him and the world became slightly blurry. He was only dimly aware of where he was and the people surrounding him. A nice, lightheaded feeling engulfed him. 

Bend your knees, a voice whispered. Bend your knees. 

Why? He asked it. The voice seemed to reply, why not? 

The class watched the boy slowly bend his knees.

Amycus grinned. He gave the class a sly look, “If I hear anything from the old hag, expect to find yourselves in detention.” He turned back to the slave. “Unbutton your robes.” Hushed whispers erupted among the students as they glanced at the slave’s robed body. 

Draco’s eyes snapped to the professor. “He isn’t wearing anything under,” he hissed. 

“I know, Draco,” the man replied. The whispers increased with anticipation. Ron felt a sick feeling in his gut. 

Amycus continued. “There’s no harm in a little stripping. He’ll be used to it anyway. Isn’t he, Draco?” Draco pressed his lips tightly together. 

“Unbutton your robes!” Amycus repeated. 

Unbutton your robes, the voice whispered. Unbutton your robes.

Harry’s hands were finding their way to his collar before he even registered what the voice was telling him. He fisted his hands. But I don’t want to. 

Unbutton your robes. 

Why? 

Unbutton your robes.

I don’t want to take them off though.

Unbutton your robes. The voice persisted.

No, I don’t want to —

UNBUTTON YOUR ROBES! The voice wasn’t soothing nor pleasant anymore. The voice was telling him to do something he didn’t want to. Kind of like the haze, but the haze smothered his mind, heated his body, made him desperate.

“No!” 

Harry realised the voice was his as he crashed into a desk, landing underneath it where he caught his bearings. The students were staring in amazement at him and Carrow, who was flushed with exertion and now, disbelief. Harry looked up at the scene, eyes darting wildly around for an escape. There was none. The two Ravenclaws were wide-eyed at the rejection of the Imperius curse. 

The atmosphere was tense. Amycus was furious. He was embarrassed. He needed to teach this slave a lesson. 

“Imperio!” He shouted, pointing his short wand at the boy. “Unbutton your robes!” 

Unbutton your robes. The voice whispered once again, but this time Harry was prepared for it. He collapsed into the wall behind him with the force of thrusting the voice away. 

Carrow looked like a ruddy, livid carrot. “Crucio!” Harry’s screams of agony had not yet ended when he yelled, “Imperio!” again.

“Unbutton your robes, you insolent breeder!” 

The voice was in his head again. His hands were shaking, trembling with the after-effects of the Cruciatus; they were finding their way to his collar, closer and closer, and he heard the click of the first button being undone. 

Then Harry grabbed his right hand with his left and gripped it, to make it stay still, to stop it from unbuttoning more. He could feel his hold slipping, so he dug his nails into it in a desperate attempt to stop their movement. A thin trail of blood dropped onto the floor. 

Draco followed his breeder’s movements observantly. He would have done better as a duellist than a breeder, he thought absent-mindedly. Harry was rather slow on those things. 

Amycus was now flushed all over with rage, his beady eyes dripping with venom. He raised his wand again. “Know your place! CRUCIO! CRUCIO! CRUCIO!”

The screams reverberated around the classroom. The class was now more or less silent as they watched the torture taking place. The two Ravenclaws were frozen in horror. 

Draco realised, as Harry fell quiet, that this was going too far. In a sudden panic, he took a step forward with the intent to intervene when Carrow abruptly dropped the spell and walked towards the boy crumpled by the wall. 

“Know your place, breeder. Beneath me, beneath your master, beneath all of us people. I’ll let you off but you better be prepared for the consequences if you displease me another time,” Carrow growled, ruddy-faced. 

Draco glanced in irritation at his professor. It wouldn’t matter whether Harry displeased Carrow or not; he was Draco’s to deal with. That string of Crucio could have harmed Harry, and if that had happened, Draco didn’t want to think of what he would do to Carrow. 

Slowly, Harry tried to sit up. His arms were trembling too badly for them to be much support, but he managed to pull himself up to slump against the wall. The room was silent, Carrow still red in anger and embarrassment at his failed Imperius, and the students in shock, staring. 

“This lesson is over,” Carrow spat. He glared over at the Ravenclaw first-years. “You get out now! Learn your lesson!” 

The class slowly filtered out of the room, somewhat reluctant to leave after the event they’d just witnessed. Harry stayed crumpled against the wall, shuddering. 

Wiping his expression clean of his distate Draco walked over to Harry, stopping at Harry’s feet. He leaned down, gripped Harry’s still-trembling forearm and pulled the boy up. Harry quietly buttoned up the black robes up to the collar. 

He followed Draco out the classroom, cruciatingly aware of Carrow’s baleful glare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a supremely long time...!


End file.
